


Leap of Faith

by Dracze



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: Background Het, Coming Out, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Getting to Know Each Other, Holidays, Humor, M/M, POV Clark Kent, Rehabilitation, Self-Indulgent, Stress Relief, Winter, background canon relationships, hero/villain relationship, retreat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28479399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracze/pseuds/Dracze
Summary: Batman never joined the team on the annual Justice League skiing holiday... until now.And this year, he's bringing his husband.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 43
Kudos: 161





	Leap of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of winter-themed batjokes fluff that's been simmering in my drafts for years now. It was first supposed to be a "Batjokes Ain't Funny" drabble, then grew, and then kept on growing. I still have plenty of ideas to add here, but I don't have as much time and energy to write as I would want, so I decided to share what I've got so far and add to this little bit of fluff later whenever the muse strikes. 
> 
> Now, a disclaimer: I love Clark, Lois and I think I got to know Diana pretty well, but I'm very firmly a batjokes writer with Batman as my hyperfocus and other batjokes shippers as my target audience, and I'm not that interested in the rest of the Justice League. I know most of them mostly from cartoons and ensemble comics, like Injustice or other big events, so my take on the others might not be very accurate. If that's the case, I'm sorry! This is only supposed to be a bit of fun with the "what would the other leaguers do if they found out about batjokes", nothing more ambitious than that, so I hope you'll forgive me the lack of adequate research if someone acts out of character. 
> 
> Also on that note: this doesn't take place in any specific universe. It's more of what I call "fluffverse": same set-up as my "Batjokes Ain't Funny" collection, a bunch of fluffy, stress-relief, self-indulgent headcanons mostly based on the Silver Age, "Justice League Action," Lego Batman, Brave and the Bold and the like. So don't expect any references to Killing Jokes or Robin-murders here, guys. 
> 
> Some mild warnings for language, non-graphic offscreen sexual situations, and general awkwardness.
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy the fun, and please let me know if you did!

Clark’s taking his shirts out of the suitcase, one by one, and carefully hanging them in his part of the closet when his ear first catches the distinct sound of a familiar engine, revving up all the way back in Gotham.

He pauses, fingers frozen in the middle of smoothing out a wrinkle. Lois, of course, notices.

“Clark?” she asks, sounding concerned. “Is that...”

Clark nods, letting out a breath. He picks up the shirt and, very carefully, carries it to the closet to find a free hanger.

“They’re on their way,” he tells Lois.

She’s silent, watching him from the bed. Her feet are bare, and she’s got one of them tucked under her, the other swinging free over the carpet. Just the sight of her like that, casual and unguarded, takes Clark’s breath away even now — he wonders if he’ll ever get used to the fact that she’s allowing this, that she’s letting him into her life enough to witness those little tells that she’s got a whole other side to her that the rest of the world doesn’t get to see.

Under normal circumstances, it’s enough to distract him from everything else.

These aren’t normal circumstances.

“Clark,” Lois says, searching his face.

He tries on a smile for her. “I’m fine. It’s — it’s gonna be fine.”

“Right.” Lois brings the other leg up on the bed too, and folds them neatly across one another. “You know, you’re gonna need to practice that in front of a mirror if you want to convince _anyone_. Let alone Bruce.”

Clark lets the smile slip from his face. “You’re probably right.” Times like these, he misses his glasses — he’s gotten used to the little fidgety mannerisms he can hide behind when he’s got them on. Now that he doesn’t have to wear them around Lois anymore, he tends to find himself trying to reach for them anyway, and feeling just a bit self-conscious when he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands.

He tucks them into the pockets of his jeans, and gazes out the window. His ears zero in on the thrum of the plane, already airborne and heading their way at three times the speed of any normal craft. The noise, so distinctive and familiar after all these years, is easy to pick out from the fog of sound now that Clark knows it’s there, and under normal circumstances, it’d be comforting.

Today, it just makes him fidget even harder as he does the calculations in his head.

“How long till they get here?” Lois asks.

“About three hours,” Clark tells her. “Maybe less.”

“Well then.” Lois unfurls, sitting up on the edge of the bed. She cocks her head to the side, and smiles. “That’s plenty of time.”

“For what?”

“What do you think, Smallville?” Lois’s tone is teasing, and so’s the lovely, impish curve of her smile. “This _is_ a holiday. I was thinking we could get a head start on that before the others start piling in.”

“Oh.” Clark’s heart picks up, and this time, the smile turns up on its own.

“Yes. Oh.” Lois opens her arms. “So? You gonna join me, or do I have to get started on my own?”

Clark’s on the bed and pushing her down on it before she’s finished talking, and she laughs that smoky, delighted laugh of hers that stops Clark’s breath in his throat. Her arms come in tight around him, drawing him in, and he goes gladly, making sure to keep enough of his weight off her so he doesn’t crush her. 

They’re getting better at that part. Which is another thing that, when Clark stops and thinks about it, short-circuits him with wonder. 

“Let’s get you distracted, hm?” Lois hums into his ear.

“You have the best ideas,” Clark tells her earnestly, and kisses her as deeply as he dares.

***

Diana and Steve make it to the lodge about an hour later. They arrive by snowmobiles, kicking up showers of snow in their wake, their cheeks and noses flushed from the cold nip in the air.

“I parked the jet a little way off to make room in the garage,” Diana explains, shaking her hair out of the helmet and letting it fall down her back in a shiny black cascade. Her eyes are bright with laughter as she looks at Steve, who’s off to the side, patting himself down. “I won.”

“By a quarter of a second, Angel,” Steve grouses.

“Still counts.” Then, Diana turns to Clark waiting for them by the door, and the spark in her eyes dims into something more subdued. “Have you heard from Bruce?”

“No, but I know he’s on his way.” Clark managed to lose the noise of Bruce’s jet to the back of his mind for the time he spent with Lois, but now that they’re out of bed, it’s impossible to ignore it anymore. “They should be here in two hours or so.”

“So he’s really coming this time.” Diana’s face is carefully blank. “I didn’t think he would.”

“Me neither,” Clark admits. He and Diana look at one another, and though Diana doesn’t move a muscle, Clark can tell they’re both thinking the same shameful, unworthy, unspeakable thing: that just this once, they would have preferred it if Bruce stayed home.

Which, come to think of it, is probably exactly why he didn’t.

“Wait, you’re serious?” Steve makes his way over, lifting his snow goggles up over his forehead. “I thought this one,” he points to Diana, “was having me on. You’re trying to tell me _Batman_ is actually gonna —”

“Yes.” Diana’s tone is just as calm as her face, and Clark is fiercely jealous of her composure. “So it would seem.”

“But he’s _never_ come! Not even when he and Catwoman were… you know.”

“He’s married now,” Diana reminds him. “Maybe he decided it was time.”

They’re silent for a bit, the three of them, standing out in the snow, avoiding each other’s eyes. It’s a strange little moment of shared cognitive dissonance, but for all the awkwardness, Clark feels just a bit comforted that Diana and Steve find the current situation just as bizarre as he does.

 _Batman’s married._ That sentence alone is strange enough just to think, to say nothing of speaking it out loud. 

And that’s not even going into who he’s married _to_.

“So, have either of you actually seen them?” Steve asks, quietly. “You know. After the fact.”

“No.” Clark scuffs the snow with his boot. “I tried, but Bruce was pretty stubborn about keeping things private.”

“He wouldn’t let me visit either,” Diana admits.

“Then why do this now?” Steve’s tone is blunt. “I mean. Two weeks in the mountains with a bunch of work friends and their partners is a pretty big step for someone who took ages to even tell his closest loved ones that he had a boyfriend. Let alone —” 

“Maybe we can ask him that when he gets here.” Diana squares her shoulders, and the neutral smile she slips on communicates quite clearly that it’s time to change the subject. “Is Lois inside?”

“Yeah, in the cellar.” Clark makes way for Diana to come through. “She’s taking stock of the wines.”

“Girl’s got her priorities straight.” Steve points to the snowmobiles. “Give me a hand with those?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll go in and say hello,” Diana decides. “You boys have fun.”

“Leave some of that wine for the rest of us, Angel!” Steve calls after her, and she gives a little wave as she makes her way into the lodge.

Clark helps Steve park the snowmobiles in the overground garage and pull tarps over them, and in the meantime, Dinah, Oliver, Barry and Iris make their way over, their helicopter sitting heavily down on the landing pad on the roof. The last ones to join them are Hal and Jillian, who apparently decided not to bother with vehicles at all and simply flew in using Hal’s Green Lantern powers. 

Clark greets them all, herds them inside, and does his best to radiate good cheer. But by the time they’re all gathered together in the bright, spacious living room and around the open plan kitchen, drinks in hand and the fire cracking warm and cosy in the massive hearth, one thing becomes blindingly obvious.

They’re all nervous.

At first, everyone goes to some lengths to hide it. None of the new arrivals mention Bruce, and as they make their way through greetings and small talk, everything seems fine. But the more time passes, the more Clark catches them looking up, their smiles slipping, their laughter growing stiff and stilted, their heart rates picking up, conversations petering off into longer and longer silences until nobody seems to want to pick them up anymore.

It’s at this point that Lois puts down her wine glass and trades a knowing glance with Diana. Diana nods and stands up, leaving her spot next to Steve by the fire. Even dressed as she is in a loose pink sweater and faded jeans, she still cuts a commanding figure, and the moment she sweeps her gaze over the assembly, all remaining conversations hush.

She accepts this with a moment’s silence, and then says, “I think it’s time to address the elephant in the room.”

“Oh man, here we go,” Ollie mutters, letting his shoulders droop.

Clark sympathizes. He leans back against the kitchen island with his cocoa, and tries to radiate support towards Diana, grateful that she’s decided to take this upon herself.

She meets his eyes briefly, and her mouth tugs into a small, private smile. Then, she turns back to the room, adopting a relaxed pose that goes directly against the thickening, expectant tension.

“As you all know, Bruce has decided to join us this year.” She pauses, and then adds, “He’s bringing his husband.”

No one says anything to that, but the room sparks into restless movement nonetheless. Couples exchange silent looks with one another, some moving to sit closer to their partners, and all their faces tighten. Just like that, the tension gets so pronounced that if it wasn’t for the knot in his stomach, Clark thinks he might have laughed just to see if he could break it.

He tries not to look at Lois. He’s got a suspicion she might be suppressing an eyeroll, and if he sees that, he’ll laugh for sure.

Diana gives a moment for the information to sink in, and then continues: “Let’s get one thing out of the way first. Yes, it’s weird.”

“Damn straight it is,” Ollie murmurs. Dinah catches his hand and gives him a quelling look, and he looks away.

“But let me remind you,” Diana continues, ignoring the interruption, “that Joker hasn’t committed a truly serious crime in years. In fact, he’s helped us, and more than once. Remember Brainiac? Remember the Inverted Dimension? Bruce wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for Joker.”

“So we’re just supposed to ignore everything he’s done?” Ollie demands.

“Of course not.” Diana looks at him now, unflinching. “I’m sure Bruce isn’t expecting that of us. No one’s saying the beginnings aren’t going to be difficult.”

“Potentially entertaining though,” Lois mutters, taking a casual sip of her wine.

Barry snorts, and Clark very nearly does too. He manages to keep his face neutral, but he still uses the boost of humor to overcome his own misgivings and steps into the thick of it to stand beside Diana. It’s important that they show a united front.

“Look,” he says, “all we ask is that you keep an open mind. Bruce claims he can keep the Joker from causing any real harm, and I’d say their track record’s been pretty convincing so far. Let’s give them a chance. The purpose of this trip is to hang out together as a team. Bruce is our pillar. He deserves to be here, and he deserves our trust.”

“Hear, hear.” Barry lifts his cup of cocoa in a salute. “Plus, dunno about you guys, but personally? I can’t wait to see the Bat try and act all social and casual and normal. It’s gonna be _spectacular._ ”

“Barry,” Iris admonishes, but she’s smiling, and Barry beams at her.

Clark isn’t all that sure he should be supporting this line of thinking, but he’d be lying if he claimed he wasn’t intrigued by the prospect himself. He doesn’t remember ever seeing Bruce interact with the entire group out of costume.

Besides, Barry’s good-humored remark seems to go some ways towards diffusing the worst of the hostility; Clark can see Dinah’s shoulders losing some of their rigid tension, and Ollie’s looking up at them again, his eyes speculative.

“Oh, come on now, everyone.” Lois’s eyes sparkle with open amusement. “Admit it: you’re all curious as hell to see this trainwreck up close. I know I am.”

“We're not asking you to be friends with the Joker," Clark adds. "All we ask is that you give them a chance.”

“In other words,” Dinah interjects, “let’s not let the clown ruin the one proper holiday we get.”

“And if he tries anything, there’s more than enough of us here to take him down,” Barry agrees.

“That’s the thing though,” Hal speaks up. “How the hell do we know it’s not a trap? Who’s to say Joker won’t just call in all his supervillain friends to attack us here, when we’re all together and vulnerable? Or that he won’t give away this location when he’s safely out of here? And before you say anything, it's not me I'm worried about. It's that most of us are here with our non-meta partners. I'm not exactly comfortable having them under the same roof with someone like Joker.”

Jillian shoots Hal a dark look at that, her jaw going stubborn. "Gee, thanks," she snaps. "As though we couldn't handle a goddamn clown."

“And what about,” Hal presses on, “our secret identities? I can’t be the only one here who’s not all that hot about showing our civilian faces to a supervillain.”

Damn. Clark was really hoping they wouldn’t bring this up, mostly because he agrees that it’s a valid concern, and isn’t exactly sure how to address it. 

But Diana doesn’t have a secret identity anymore, so like it or not, Clark knows this one’s gonna have to be on him. 

“Joker’s known Bruce’s secret identity for years,” he points out, “and he hasn’t done anything with that knowledge.”

“Yeah, well, knowing what we know now? It’s obvious he didn’t want to lose his playmate,” Dinah counters. “He won’t have the same scruples when it comes to the rest of us.”

“He knows mine, too,” Clark tells them. 

That does the trick, or at least gets them to listen. They all stare at him now with their eyes wide open, and in one or two cases, their mouths dropping open, too. Clark clears his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot and resisting the urge to fidget.

“I told Bruce he could share it with Joker after he told us about the relationship,” he explains. Just then, soft fingers thread through his, and he glances down to smile in gratitude at Lois before pressing on. “It was to show him that I trusted him. That was half a year ago, and I haven’t had cause to regret that decision.”

“Yet,” Ollie interjects. “I agree with Hal on this one, guys. It’s a huge risk. How do we know we can trust a criminal with something as important as this?"

“Because Bruce vouches for him,” Diana says.

The funny thing is, she never raises her voice. Never changes her tone at all. But the sheer conviction in her words catches everyone’s attention, and then nearly all of them, besides Lois and Barry, look away as if she’s just scolded them.

Because, well, at the end of the day? That’s what it all comes down to. Either they trust Bruce to make the right call, or they don’t. And if they can’t trust him to not knowingly put them in danger, then they can’t trust him to lead the League, or even to remain a member, and Clark _knows_ no one in this room wants to make that call — or even be the one to bring it up as a possibility.

Not one of them wants to live in a world where you can’t trust Batman.

As if on cue, the thrum of Bruce’s jet gets ear-splittingly close, and then stops. Clark knows what that means, and catches Diana’s eye.

“They’re here,” he mouths at her, and she nods.

“This place is a secret fortress, with all sorts of defences and cloaking technology,” she reminds them all, looking directly at Ollie. "Which Oliver has so graciously provided when he had it built for us. Not that I expect any foul play, but we’re _not_ vulnerable here, and the villains would have to be exceptionally stupid to try and get through, even with assistance on the inside. Besides, if we considered Joker's motivations, then we can be sure Bruce has considered them ten times over, and has decided to come anyway. To me, that’s reassurance enough.”

“We could always ask Zatanna to wipe his memory later,” Dinah says with a shrug. “Just in case.”

“I’m sure there won’t be any need for that,” Clark says, just barely managing not to tuck his hands into his pockets. “Now, let’s all just relax and try and have a good time, yeah? I’m sure this decision wasn’t easy for Bruce, but he's decided to trust us with this part of his life. It's a big step for him, and as his friends, we should do our best to show our support. And who knows? Maybe Joker will surprise us.”

" _That's_ a safe bet all right," Hal murmurs. He looks like he wants to add something else, but isn't quite sure how to phrase it, and turns an imploring look at Ollie.

"Look, guys, no one's questioning Bruce's trustworthiness," Ollie says, somewhat defensively. "We're just worried that his judgment may be a bit... askew. I mean… for pity’s sake, he _married_ the guy he used to beat up. And we've all seen them together. They're volatile, and — and even if we ignore stuff like trust — let's not pretend that Joker is in any way a rational person. What happens when, I dunno, when he hears weird voices in his head telling him to kill us?"

"If," Diana corrects him, in the exact moment that Clark catches the metal rush of the elevator going up from the underground hangar, and familiar voices arguing inside: Bruce's low baritone, Joker's typical all-over-the-place cadence. He does his best not to listen to their words, and stands up straight, trying to contain his fidgeting and the frantic beat of his heart. 

Next to him, Diana adds, " _If_ that happens, I'm sure Bruce will be the first to take him down."

"Are we allowed to help?" Dinah wonders.

"Help with what?" 

Right on cue, all heads turn towards the elevator. 

Bruce stands there, unsmiling, managing to look almost as sharp and severe and commanding in a plain black turtleneck, suit jacket and pressed tailored pants as he does in the batsuit. He’s got one arm around Joker, whose curling hair looks artfully tousled, and who’s wearing a fur-lined purple coat, purple pants, a long green scarf that hangs almost down to the floor, and what looks like a black t-shirt with the bat symbol on it.

And who, apparently, has decided to complete this unusual outfit with a _blindfold._

“Hel- _lo_ , superheroes!” Joker sings, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet, clad in high-heeled black boots studded with metal spikes. He gives a hearty wave in the vague direction of the empty kitchen, and giggles when Bruce’s arm tightens around his shoulder as though to keep him from bolting. 

Then, he sniffs the air, loudly. “Hey, is that mulled wine? Can I have some?”

“I kept him blindfolded the whole way here,” Bruce tells the room without preamble. His voice comes out steady and just a bit cold, and his face keeps still when he looks at each of them in turn. “He doesn’t know where we are.”

“Batsy said to make a game of it,” Joker pipes in, his grin going sly. “The rules were not to peek, so he can reward me with a nice, long — ”

“The blindfold will only come off if you all agree to us being here,” Bruce says, just a little too quickly. “If even one of you objects to it, we’ll go. I won’t hold it against you. I understand that it’s… a lot to take in.”

“Hey, that’s what I said last night!”

Bruce shifts his grip from Joker’s shoulder to his neck, under the scarf, and squeezes. Joker giggles again, louder, but doesn’t add anything else. 

At this point, it’s almost impossible for Clark to keep in his own slightly hysterical snorts, but he manages, and surveys the rest of the team. They’re tense — big surprise there — but some of them are looking contemplative and cautious rather than downright hostile, which is promising enough for a start. 

The blindfold was a smart move. For one thing, it shows that Bruce has considered the secret identity issue too, and chose to leave it up to the team to decide how far they want to extend their trust. 

And for another… 

Bruce catches Ollie grimacing and glancing away, and hides a smile.

Nothing like a bit of discreet guilt-tripping to grease the wheels. 

“Thank you, Bruce,” Diana cuts in gracefully. “That’s… considerate. I’m happy you made it this year, but of course I can only speak for myself. Does anyone wish to object?”

She sweeps her calm, open, inviting gaze over the assembly, and Clark is once again swept up in gratitude. Somehow, Diana’s managed to put aside her own misgivings and now radiates nothing but trust, composure and self-assurance. More than that, she does it without coming across as judgmental — as if she genuinely wants to hear everyone’s opinions, and wouldn’t hold it against anybody who did speak out. 

And she probably wouldn’t. But she’d be Disappointed. 

Distrusting Batman is nothing compared to disappointing Wonder Woman.

“Sheesh, smells like one tough crowd,” Joker comments when the silence lingers for another few uncomfortable beats. He raises a gloved hand to touch Bruce’s fingers where they rest at the back of his neck. “They’re still alive out there, are they? They didn’t all drop dead of shock? ‘Cause if they did, the other villains would _kill_ me.”

“J.,” Bruce murmurs in a quelling voice.

“What? I know you hero types with your delicate sensibilities. Told you we shoulda packed the smelling salts, darling. Now will somebody _please_ say something, before the windows start going boom just to break the tension?”

“All right, then, I’ll say something,” Barry pipes up. “I don’t mind the clown being here. Things are complicated sometimes. I get that. I got experience helping rehabilitate rogues, too. I’m okay with giving him a chance.”

Clark takes that as his cue and says, “Same here. I’m glad you finally decided to come.” 

It comes out far too fast and eager, and he barely hides a wince, resisting the need to glance at Lois. He fixes an encouraging smile on his face and sends it Bruce’s way instead, and relaxes a bit at the slow — slightly suspicious — nod Bruce gives him in return.

That’s when Lois — beautiful, smart, brave, incredible Lois — decides to step in to the rescue.

“I for one can’t _wait_ for the villain gossip,” she speaks up, loudly, swirling her wine with elegant ease. “Hope you’re up to date on that, clown boy.”

Joker’s grin goes all shark-like. “Girl, you have no idea.”

“Then count me in, too,” Iris demands. “I can’t just sit back and let Lane get all the scoops.”

“Villain gossip, huh?” Dinah’s tone goes calculating. “Not gonna lie, that sounds like it could be useful.”

“We’re on holiday,” Diana reminds her gently. “That goes for all of us here. This isn’t going to turn into an interrogation.”

Dinah puts both arms up in the air. “Just something to consider.” 

“Hal?” Clark asks, trying to disguise the tension in his voice. “Ollie?”

Hal watches Bruce and Joker, his arm winding around Jillian. She looks somewhat irritated by that, but doesn’t try to pull away, and lets Hal make up his mind.

“Do you vouch for him, Bruce?” Hal asks after a moment.

Bruce’s face doesn’t change — not even by a twitch of a single muscle. 

“I do,” he says. “But you don’t have to take my word for it.” He turns to Diana, and asks, “Did you bring the lasso?”

Diana’s face opens up in surprise. “Yes,” she says, and then her eyes narrow. “You don’t mean —” 

“Could you bring it down here?” 

“Bruce,” Diana starts, but Bruce doesn’t let her object.

“Please,” he says. “It’ll make things quicker.”

She considers him for a beat, then turns to Clark, who finds himself unable to do much else but nod. 

Bruce is right. If the lasso can’t prove Joker’s trustworthiness, he doesn’t know what could.

“Barry,” Diana says, her face clearing once more. “Could you please fetch it? It’s in my room, in the suitcase on the bed.” 

“On it,” Barry says. He sets off in a blur and is back in less than a blink, holding Diana’s silver suitcase in both hands.

He sets it respectfully down on the kitchen counter, and Diana comes up to open it and take out the lasso. 

“Hands out,” Bruce murmurs to Joker, who obliges happily, looking delighted at the whole situation. 

“Getting kinky already, and we only just got here,” he teases. “Told you it’d be a fun holiday, baby.”

Clark chokes back a snort, and risks another glance at the assembled team while Diana quietly wraps the lasso in glowing, golden coils around Joker’s wrists. The moment the golden rope touches Joker’s skin, he shivers all over and lets out a happy, slightly unsettling sound. 

_That_ doesn’t help ease the tension any. 

Hal and Ollie look decidedly uncomfortable and fidgety now, trading tense glances. Jillian seems intrigued, leaning forward for a better view, which makes sense — she hasn’t had many opportunities to see the lasso in action. Iris, tense in her spot on the couch, takes refuge in her tea, only glancing up from her cup sporadically, while Dinah keeps herself still. The frown on her face is alert, but doesn’t give much away. Steve appears to want to keep out of the whole thing, looking distant and skeptical in his chair far off by the fire.

And then there’s Lois, watching the whole scene with sharp, hungry eyes. Just one look at her expression — equal parts curious and frustrated — tells Clark how much she wishes she had her notebook on her. She’s probably already writing headlines in her mind.

He hides a smile, and takes a seat next to her to put a hand over her knee. 

“Sometimes I really hate being your girlfriend,” she minces at him. 

“I know,” Clark whispers back. “Maybe Bruce will give you an exclusive when they decide to go public.”

“He fucking better.”

This time, Clark lets a smile for her slip by before he smothers it, and turns to look at the trio up by the elevator. 

“The lasso compels you to tell the truth,” Diana says in a clear, carrying voice as Joker visibly shivers. “Do you harbor any desire, or plans, to harm the people under this roof?”

“Save for Batsy when we’re feeling naughty? Nah,” Joker says easily, shrugging, mouth twisted in a lopsided grin. 

“Are you working with any other villains, or do you plan to collaborate with them in the future?”

“I’d have to check my calendar,” Joker starts, but then Bruce gives a quick squeeze to his neck again and Joker relents. “Not currently, though. My dance card’s quite full with this one at the moment.”

He nudges Bruce, who rolls his eyes. But even though the rest of Bruce’s face doesn’t move, Clark thinks he can spot something coming loose in it that melts some of the defensive chill in his eyes.

Judging by the softening tilt to Diana’s mouth, Clark isn’t the only one who noticed.

“Do you wish to reveal the civilian identities of any of the people gathered here to other villains, or to the general public?” Diana asks.

“Why would I?” Joker looks genuinely puzzled by the question. “Not to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I got into the villain game for Batsy. You guys just aren’t all that interesting.”

Lois snorts, and chokes on a sip of wine. Clark’s own face is twitching as he pats her soothingly on the back, and he has to bite on the inside of his cheek. 

He doesn’t dare look at Bruce. 

“There you have it,” Diana says, her voice just a bit strained with amusement when she turns to the assembly. “Does anyone else have any other questions?”

“Lots of grey area there to exploit,” Ollie points out. “He could mean it right now, but who says he won’t change his mind in the future?” 

“If you’d rather we leave —” Bruce starts, but Ollie shakes his head. 

“Not what I’m saying, Bats, take it easy.” He turns to Joker. “So. Joker. Are you, uh… taking any meds? Doing therapy? Anything like that?”

The smile melts off Joker’s face instantly. “Yeah,” he says, and snaps his mouth shut, making it quite clear that that’s all he’s going to say about that.

“Okay,” Ollie says placatingly. “Fair enough, I guess.”

“Do you _promise_ not to hurt anyone while you’re here?” Hal insists. 

Joker shrugs. “Sure. Like I said, I’m hardly interested in any of _you_ bozos. I mostly just wanted to come ‘cause Batsy needs to get out more, we haven’t had a proper honeymoon yet, and I’ve never gone skiing before.” 

The lasso glows over Joker’s white wrists, warm and reassuring. 

“Anyone else?” Bruce asks. 

There’s more silence. Finally, Ollie sighs and falls back against the back of the couch. 

“Okay, fine,” he says. “Christ. Let’s give it a trial run.” 

He still looks reluctant and distinctly uncomfortable. So does Hal. 

Even so, Hal says, “It’d be hypocritical of me to neg on Bruce for getting with a supervillain, given my own history with Star Sapphire. I’m not gonna kick you guys out.”

“Me neither,” Jillian adds. “And just so you know, Joker? I’m not afraid of you.”

“I have no idea which one of you just said that, but kudos to you, mystery person,” Joker laughs.

“Dinah?” Diana asks.

Dinah still eyes Joker with clear distaste. But then she catches Bruce’s eye, and some of the fight seems to sag out of her. She shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Whatever,” she says. “Let him stay. But only because I trust Bruce. And if the clown tries anything, we can take him. Heard that, Joker?”

“Loud and clear!”

“That leaves Steve,” Diana says, and looks to her boyfriend, who crosses one leg over the other and rubs the back of his neck.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” he says. “I’m not gonna cause drama with your friends, Angel. If you say it’s fine, then it’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Clark tells them all, earnestly. He turns to Bruce with a smile that feels just a little too wide on his face. “Looks like you can take that blindfold off.”

“Aw, must we? I was gonna suggest a game of Marco Polo. You know, as a team building exercise? You hero types look like you go in for those,” Joker prattles even as Bruce moves behind him, and Diana starts to uncoil the lasso from his wrists. 

“You won’t get to go skiing if you fall on your face and break your nose on your first day here,” Bruce tells Joker. 

His voice sounds stiffer now than it was when he came in, which intrigues Clark. He studies his friend more closely, noting the fresh frownlines breaking out on Bruce’s face and the new jerkiness to his hands as they unknot the blindfold. There’s tension building in the corners of Bruce’s mouth, too.

Huh, Clark thinks, before a suspicion dawns on him, because it almost looks like Bruce is… disappointed? Did he _hope_ someone would object so he could take Joker and go home?

Soon as the thought crosses Clark’s mind, he knows he’s right. And it’s so thoroughly, disarmingly _Bruce_ that he barely manages to keep in a laugh. 

Poor guy, he thinks fondly, watching the blindfold come off. _Well, you’re stuck with us now._

They all watch as Joker blinks furiously in the stark, bright glow of the mountain sun that streams in through wall-to-ceiling windows. He rubs at his eyes and grimaces, then tries to open them again, and squints at the tense company. 

He takes a while inspecting them in silence, then leans over to Bruce. Theatrically, he whispers, “You didn’t say they’d all be _straight_.” 

He considers the team again, and adds, “And white.”

Lois snorts into her wine again, then downs the rest of it in one go. “This coming from literally the whitest person in the room?” she murmurs. 

Diana smiles at Joker, her eyes crinkling the way they always do when she’s genuinely amused. 

“What about me? I’m neither white nor straight,” she tells him. 

“Really?” That seems to put Joker in a better mood instantly. “Well, of course you aren’t! You’re far too classy for that, princess. Say, are you going out with anybody at the moment? Because my friend Harley would simply _love_ to meet you.”

“She’s with me,” Steve says sourly from his chair by the fire. 

Joker glances at him, then at Diana. “This guy? _Really_?”

Diana laughs, and so do Lois and Barry. To his credit, Steve looks amused, too, and mutters, “Believe me, I ask myself the same thing every day.” 

Joker glances to him again, and opens his mouth. 

Right. Time to intervene. 

“Come on,” Clark says, getting up from the couch. “I’ll show you guys to your room.”

Bruce lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like _Hnn_. Joker loops his arm through Bruce’s, and beams at Clark. 

“Lead on, superhunk,” he says, and winks. “Civilian suits you, by the way. Giving us some guileless farmboy realness. I do prefer you in the tights, though, sugar.” 

Clark’s face goes hot, and he risks a glance first at Lois’s delighted face, than at Bruce’s stiffening one. He makes the executive decision to ignore Joker, and starts up the stairs. “Follow me.”

He regrets that one minute later when he hears Joker and Bruce’s footsteps follow him up the stairs, and Joker whispers, “Oh, I’m liking the view out here already.” 

That’s when Lois loses it completely and breaks into peals of laughter. Clark decides to sprint the rest of the way up the stairs so he can turn and wait for the approaching couple at the top, his face burning, self-consciousness threatening to eat him up alive.

He’s beginning to suspect that maybe Joker’s trustworthiness isn’t all they should be worried about.

***

“Oh, Batsy, look. They gave us a single bed!” Joker points out when Clark opens the door for them. “I win.”

“Win what?” Clark asks from the threshold, tossing Bruce the key to the room. 

“We had a bet,” Bruce explains, dropping the key into his back pocket and walking into the room behind Joker. “You don’t want to know.”

Clark supposes he doesn’t, judging by Joker’s dirty snicker. He points to the door to his right. 

“The ensuite’s that way,” he explains. “The lights, window blinds and bathroom fixtures are all noise-activated. Ollie went all out.”

Bruce hums, looking around. He’s wearing a decidedly unimpressed, calculating expression that Clark recognizes as his Planning Face, and expects Bruce to present them with blueprints on how to improve the lodge’s security and amenities before the week is out. 

“You can go ahead and bring our stuff up, dear,” Joker tells Bruce, shucking the winter coat to the floor and jumping on the bed. His high-heeled boots and woollen socks are next to go, but he keeps the scarf around his neck, and then he rolls on the bed, wrapping himself in the velvet throw. 

Bruce looks at him, mouth pulling into a fond, amused smirk. “You’re not gonna help?”

“And deprive you of your exercise? For shame, baby. What sort of terrible husband do you take me for?”

“The lazy sort.” Bruce rolls his eyes, then shrugs his own suit jacket off and folds it over the back of the chair by the desk. “Fine, but you stay right here, understood? No wandering around the place till I get back. Don’t make me regret vouching for you back there.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I _will_ lock you in here.”

“Do I hear a challenge?”

Bruce shakes his head, and brushes past Clark on his way out the door. Which, Clark can’t help but notice, he does lock on his way out. 

“Think that’ll keep him in?” Clark asks, following his friend back down the stairs. 

“Probably not.” Bruce sounds fonder than Clark has ever heard him, and it’s… unsettling, to say the least. 

“Want a hand with the luggage?” he asks, to distract himself and Bruce alike. 

Bruce gives him a long, assessing look, and Clark has to fight not to hold his breath.

Then, Bruce shrugs. “Fine. There’s… a lot of stuff to bring up.”

“Joker’s?”

“Most of it. I don’t think he understands what _pack lightly_ actually means.”

“You didn’t bring your suit though, did you?” Clark asks as they pass the parlor with all its curious, whispering occupants, and make for the elevator. 

Bruce’s jaw sets, and Clark stares at him, torn somewhere between amusement and exasperation. 

“Oh come on.” 

“Diana brought her lasso,” Bruce points out with just a touch of prickly defensiveness, jamming the elevator button to close the door and get it moving. “And you can’t tell me I wouldn’t find the suit in _your_ closet if I were to go looking.”

“Well —”

“I bet everyone else brought their weapons, too.”

Clark sighs, giving up. “I keep asking them not to,” he complains. “This _is_ supposed to be a holiday.”

“Try setting an example. Maybe that would help.”

“Would it stop _you_?”

“Of course not,” Bruce replies with an air of superiority. “ _Someone_ would have to stay ready to make up for your negligence.”

“Ha, ha.” 

They stand there in silence for a moment, letting the elevator take them down to the hangar. It’s stiff and awkward, still, but… not as awkward as it could be, all things considered. 

Or, at least, Clark hopes so. 

Bruce remains tense by his side though, and the moment the elevator lets them out into the empty hangar, he says, coldly, “Okay, Clark. Let’s get this over with.” 

Clark stops, genuinely confused now, and just a little hurt. “I take it you don’t mean the unpacking.”

“You’ve been dying to ask how things are going with Joker. Go on, then. Ask.”

Clark sighs again, and follows Bruce over to the sleek black Batwing, their footsteps booming in echoes in the vast, quiet space. 

“Okay. Yes. I admit it’s been on my mind,” he allows. He hesitates, and asks, “So… how _are_ things going? How was the wedding?”

“Private,” Bruce says, curtly. 

“I figured. You know, since you only told us after the fact, and all.”

Bruce touches his hand to a pad on the side of the plane, and the latch at the back cracks open with a hiss. 

“Don’t take it personally,” he says, stepping onto the latch. “Not even Alfred knew. It was a spontaneous thing, and anyway, it’s not like it was an _official_ ceremony. There wasn’t any paperwork or anything.”

Right. Clark did wonder about that, considering Joker’s official status as a criminal on the run. And it’s not like they could enter _Joker_ and _Batman_ on a marriage license.

“But you said —”

“He’s still my husband,” Bruce insists, sharp and defiant, as if he expects Clark to argue — as if it’s an argument he’s prepared himself for weeks in advance. 

Right. Clark takes a deep breath, studying Bruce with all his defensive sharpness, and then it’s easier than he thought to find a smile for him. 

“Okay,” he says in a tone he makes deliberately light and non-confrontational, hoping it will settle some of Bruce’s raised hackles. “Sure. It’s what’s between you that matters. I get that.” 

“It’s done. I’m not breaking up with him,” Bruce carries on, as per the script in his head. “So if that’s what you were hoping to achieve —”

“Nah.” Clark stuffs his hands in his pockets and watches Bruce move stiffly around the back of the plane, hauling bags to and fro. “Not me,” he assures him. “I’ve had my say when we talked about it the first time around. Joker’s proven himself since then, and you’ve proven that you’re serious about it. I’m not gonna pester you about the risks anymore.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve come around so quickly.”

“Not all the way,” Clark admits, “but I’m trying. That’s gotta count for something.”

“But you’re still not thrilled with the idea.”

“And what if I’m not? My nagging won’t change your mind. There’s nothing I could say that you haven’t already considered on your own, and anyway, you’re an adult. It’s your life. No one can make those decisions for you.”

Bruce stops, one garishly purple glittery bag slung over his shoulder. He doesn’t turn, exactly, but he does look at Clark, and his bright blue eyes are piercing as ever as they search him.

Clark bears the scrutiny in silence, keeping his smile on despite the doubts he still harbors deep inside. Bruce _has_ heard all about them already, and doesn’t need them repeated. It’s important that Clark gets this right. 

“Okay,” Bruce mutters, eventually, and bends over to pick up more bags. 

Clark lets out a breath, and feels the set of his shoulders relax and drop a bit. 

_Okay._

He’s passed…

For now.

“And honestly,” he adds now that he thinks he’s allowed, “you’d have to be blind not to see how much he adores you.” 

“Don’t overdo it,” Bruce grouses, and Clark grins, finally taking the ramp up to join him. 

“I mean it. It’s cute, in a lovesick puppy kind of way,” he insists, because if there’s anything about this situation that can possibly make him feel better, it’s the chance to tease his friend to hell and back. He claps Bruce on the shoulder, and says, “I was skeptical at first, but now it’s plain as day. I just can’t help but wonder what he did that finally wore you down. Was it the drag?”

“Clark.”

“Or the Jokermobile? They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And you do have a thing about customized cars, Bruce.”

“Hnn.”

“Or was it the way he handles knives? You always did like your lovers with a bit of danger.”

“Alright, that’s enough now.”

“Fine,” Clark relents, and then lets his smile drop into something a touch more earnest. “I mean it, though. It _is_ obvious that you’re the center of his whole universe. I’m sure the others will come to see it in time, too.”

“That’s exactly why I’m here.” Bruce sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t have come, except J. wanted to. We talked about it, and he said it’d be a good opportunity to… prove things. And that’s true. At the end of the day, I just want to show everyone that I’m serious about this, and that Joker’s here to stay.” He looks over to Clark, still prickly, still guarded, still very much on the defense. “We’ll probably leave early so we don’t spoil the whole vacation for you just to make a point.”

“For what it’s worth, I hope you don’t,” Clark tells him, finding with some surprise that he mostly means it. “It’s gonna be tough at first, but I can see how it’s a good idea to use this opportunity to get everyone used to the concept of you and Joker together.”

_Including myself._

“You’re not worried?”

“Sure I am.” Clark shrugs, and takes a moment to look for a way to phrase what’s beginning to clear up in his head. “But you’re my friend,” he says, “and I want you to be part of the group in every way. Joker, too, now that you two come as a matched set. This should be a good opportunity for a test drive, to see how everyone gets along. Might help the others trust Joker next time we need his help, too.”

“Yes.” Bruce nods, curt and brisk, dropping his gaze to the bags and suitcases and purses littering the floor of the plane. He murmurs, “Thanks.”

“You’re taking a huge leap of faith,” Clark tells him, softly. “Both of you. I appreciate it. I just hope we don’t let you down.”

“I should be the one telling _you_ that.”

“Let’s assume you did, how about that? And that the leap of faith thing goes both ways. The sooner we acknowledge that, the better chance we have to not fuck it up.”

Bruce groans. “Don’t let Joker hear you say _fuck_ ,” he implores. “He won’t let you live it down.”

“Noted.” Clark grins, and fights off the urge to sweep Bruce into a hug. He knows better than to try. 

He settles for clamping a hand on Bruce’s shoulder again, giving it a brief, bracing squeeze, and lets go before Bruce gets uncomfortable enough to try and shrug it off.

“Come on,” Clark says, bending down to pick up the bags. “Let’s get you two settled.” 

Bruce breathes out. “Does that mean we’re done?”

“For now.” Clark beams at him easily enough now. “You’ve been tortured enough. And you’re probably itching to get back upstairs.”

Bruce doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t say much of anything. He simply gets back to the luggage, and lets Clark work alongside him in silence that’s far more relaxed and companionable now that the air’s been cleared. They bring it all up into the elevator, and that’s when Clark first notices the thin purple-and-green band on Bruce’s ring finger.

“Cute,” he comments, his face breaking into a grin.

“What? Oh.” The tips of Bruce’s ears go pink when he catches Clark staring, and he moves as if to fiddle with the ring, or maybe hide it; but then, as if forcing himself to, he lets his other hand drop.

“Joker’s handiwork?”

“Yeah. I don’t wear it out in public,” Bruce admits quietly, avoiding Clark’s eye. “But I figured, since everyone here already knows…”

Something in Clark’s heart twists at that, in a bittersweet kind of way that takes him by surprise. It reminds him of the way he feels when he’s around Lois as Superman, longing to hold her and knowing he can’t. He looks up at Bruce just in time to catch the hint of sadness in his eyes before it clears away.

This isn’t the first time he’s considered the implications of Bruce dating his worst enemy. 

But, he thinks, this might just be the first time he’s starting to truly understand what it means for Bruce day-to-day, and his resolve to make this easier for him turns to steel. 

They all started coming here so they’d have a space to properly relax while being _themselves_ , masks off, loved ones brought along, united in shared secrets in a place where they could shed them, well and truly. 

He figures that, right now, Bruce needs that more than any of them. 

“Did Joker get a black one?” he asks, mostly to keep the banter going as his thoughts churn. 

Bruce smirks. “Not exactly.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and the tilted curve to his lips tells Clark that it probably isn’t something Clark should ask about. 

Maybe later. With alcohol involved. And if Bruce isn’t forthcoming, Joker might be.

… That is, if they can find him.

“Motherfucker,” Bruce mutters when they come in to find the room empty. He drops the bags to the floor and runs down to the living room, Clark following close behind. 

He doesn’t miss the fondness in Bruce’s voice, nor the way he seems to be trying to hide a smile when he interrogates Lois and Diana if they saw Joker. It’s that, more than anything else, that has Clark hanging back and heading for the kitchen to pour himself some wine, rather than following Bruce when he takes off down to the cellar — or using his powers to locate Joker for him. 

The last thing Clark wants to do right now is ruin Bruce’s fun. 

He takes his wine, plops down in a spot on the couch next to Lois, takes her hand, and tunes in to the story Iris is in the middle of telling, about some corrupt executive who tried to dodge an interview with her by ducking into a shrubbery. He laughs with the others, and lets the warmth and the company and the sound of Lois’s laughter beside him ease the last of the tension from his muscles, bit by bit. 

He does, however, keep half an ear fixed on Bruce and his quick breath as he runs around the lodge after the man he chose to marry.

Just in case.

***

It takes Bruce and Joker over three hours to finish their game of hide and seek. By the time they make it back it’s pitch-black outside, and they’re both flushed and rumpled — though Clark knows for a fact they haven’t done anything more erotic than a bit of wrestling here and there — and Joker looks practically radiant with joy. 

And Bruce…

Bruce is _smiling_ , and the effect of that small, simple thing is incredible, almost blinding, taking years off his face. 

At first, Clark wonders if they’ll go up the stairs to change. But instead, Joker heads straight for the little group by the sofa, bare feet padding on the wood panels, and gets to introducing himself — “We need to do this properly” — and shaking everyone’s hand.

Bruce hangs back and stands by the fire, watching him like a hawk, banishing the last of that smile away as though he’s ashamed of letting them catch a glimpse. 

“You took your time,” Clark tells him, joining him there.

“He got in a mood,” Bruce murmurs. “Led me a chase through the entire lodge. Not that I need to tell _you_ that.”

Clark nods, unmoved by the accusation.

“So you don’t need the grand tour, then.”

Bruce snorts. There’s light dancing in his eyes that he hasn’t quite managed to douse, and the corners of his mouth twitch up. 

Clark smiles at him, and then they both follow Joker’s progress across the room to the kitchen island, where he accosts Hal and Ollie.

“Howdy, boys! Aren’t you two a fine pair of snacks. I’m the Joker,” he announces grandly. 

Hal and Ollie glance at one another. 

“Yes,” Hal says. “We know.”

“We’ve met,” Ollie adds.

“We have?” Joker puts his hands on his hips and leans forward to examine them, squinting. “No, I don’t think so. I think I’d remember that goatee.”

Ollie pulls an incredulous face as the group by the couches try and fail to hide their snickers. 

“You literally teamed up with us not that long ago,” Hal says. “Bruce brought you to the watchtower. In space. That ring any bells?”

“Not to mention that you tried to seduce my girlfriend once,” Ollie pipes in. “Though, granted, _that_ was ages ago.”

“Hmm. No, that doesn’t sound like me at all, does it?” Joker wonders aloud. “You sure that wasn’t my evil straight twin brother, the Poker? He’s about this tall, and this thin —” 

“You literally threw me off a bridge,” Dinah pipes in from the couch.

“Yeah!” Ollie agrees. “And then you fell off it yourself!”

“Ha! Now _that_ sure does sound like something I’d do.” Joker laughs, easily. “I’m afraid I don’t recall any of that —”

“Lucky you,” Dinah whispers under her breath. 

“ — but I do hope I didn’t break your heart, if that was indeed you, Lady Canary.” Joker sketches a deep bow Dinah’s way. “I must’ve been having a bad episode. I’m afraid I simply don’t swing that way.”

“But you —”

“Well, what about Harley Quinn, then?” Hal cuts in.

Joker looks puzzled now, almost as much as the two men he’s talking to. “What about her?”

“Wasn’t she, like,” Hal tries. “Weren’t you two…”

He drops off, mostly because Joker still stares at him with blank uncomprehension. There’s a moment of silence, as though everyone in the room wants to see how this will go; and eventually, Hal shrugs, looking almost helpless.

“Nevermind,” he says. “You know what? That’s cool. I don’t wanna know.” 

He turns and pours himself another cup of wine, and then stalks off to join Steve, Dinah and Jillian on the couch. Ollie follows. Joker moves to pour himself some wine, too — 

“Joker,” Bruce says, slipping into something that sounds far more Batman than his civilian self.

Joker pulls a face, sticks his tongue out at him, and then moves to treat himself to some of the thick hot chocolate with marshmallows instead.

And then trots off after Hal and Ollie, ready to mingle some more.

“Aren’t you gonna do anything?” Clark asks out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Nah.” Bruce shrugs, his mouth tugging into a smirk. “This is the most entertainment I’ve had in a while.”

“You fiend,” Diana whispers, smiling, coming up to join them. “You look well, Bruce.”

The smirk falls off Bruce’s face, and he ducks his head under her scrutiny. 

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You do,” Clark agrees. “Married life suits you.”

“Who’d have thought that out of the three of us, you’d be the first to settle down,” Diana teases. “The fearsome Batman, not only a father of five but married, as well! That’s a lovely wedding ring, by the way.”

Bruce’s hand twitches, as though he has to fight the urge to hide the ring from view. 

He doesn’t, though. And Clark feels a burst of pride at that that feels entirely out of place.

“If you’re quite done ganging up on me…” 

“Not yet,” Diana says easily. “This is your punishment for not inviting us to the wedding. We’re your friends, Bruce.” Her tone turns gentle then, and only slightly chastising. “You dropped off the face of the earth. Didn’t even tell Alfred where you went. We were all worried.”

“You shouldn’t have been,” Bruce mutters. “I can look after myself just as well as you two.”

“Of course you can. I only meant —”

“I know what you meant. Can we drop it now? It was private, and something we needed to do for ourselves. I’m not going to apologize for excluding you from something that didn’t concern you to begin with.”

His tone is cold, and brooks no argument. Clark and Diana exchange glances.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now, in any case,” Diana says at length. “And your partner seems to be settling in well.”

All three of them look at Joker, now ensconced on the sofa between Lois, Iris and Barry, prattling along, his hands flying as he gesticulates and nearly spills his chocolate all over Lois’s lap. She doesn’t seem to mind, and watches him with something like rapt fascination, eyes twinkling with sharp amusement. At one point, she actually laughs, and Joker gazes at her in delight that might have worried Clark in the past.

Well. It still worries him now, if he’s quite honest with himself. 

But it’s probably best not to mention that. 

“Arthur couldn’t come?” Bruce asks, still looking at Joker. 

“Sadly, no. He had some urgent Atlantis business to take care of. And J’onn chose to stay up on the watchtower in case of emergencies,” Diana explains. “The way he always does.”

“So I’m not the only one who’s never been here, then?”

“That’s right.” Clark sighs. “Though in J’onn’s case, I think it’s more that he doesn’t want us to worry he’ll read our minds by accident.”

“I told him he needn’t worry about that,” Diana says, sadly. “But he persists.”

She looks up, as though she could spot their friend through the barrier of the roof and the starry sky separating them. Clark does, too, and since he actually _can_ , he focuses his vision to spot J’onn, and smiles as he raises his wine cup his way.

And then smiles wider when he catches Bruce and Diana doing the same. 

“It’s a nice enough place, I guess,” Bruce allows. 

“Wait till you get to the hot spring,” Clark says. “It’s out back. We plan on going for a soak tomorrow.”

“The gym is well equipped, as well,” Diana adds. “And the indoor pool’s nice and big. Ollie spared no expense.” 

“We saw it,” Bruce says, looking unimpressed. “It’s passable.”

Clark and Diana exchange smiles. 

“We want to go skiing in the morning,” Diana says. “I hope you and Joker can join us.”

“He’ll want to,” Bruce murmurs, once again watching his partner across the room. He doesn’t look like he’s looking forward to the prospect, and Clark opens his mouth to tease him about it some more.

That’s when Lois spots Bruce’s hand, and the green-and-purple ring on his finger. 

“Well I’ll be damned,” she exclaims. “Isn’t that something.”

Joker follows her gaze, and the moment he catches her meaning, his grin lights up his entire face. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it? I made it myself,” he brags. “You’ll never guess what it’s made of.”

“J.” Bruce sounds like he’d like nothing better than to pick Joker up and lock him in their bedroom upstairs.

“No, hang on, I wanna try.” Lois gives it a moment, and then guesses, “Some sort of space metal?”

“Nope!”

“Something from Arkham?” Iris volunteers.

“Closer, but no cigar!”

“I bet it’s something cheesy and sentimental,” Barry votes. “Like the first piece of jewelry Joker stole. Am I close?”

“Well, that _would_ be appropriate,” Joker allows. “And you’re much closer than the others, my good sir. But still no.” 

“Oh for god’s sake,” Bruce murmurs. 

“I made it from the very first batarang Batsy ever hit me with,” Joker announces with much delight. “Packed a couple surprises into it, too. Brucie’s been discovering them little by little.”

“Non-lethal laughing gas capsules,” Bruce explains quietly to Clark and Diana. “Don’t ask.”

“And where’s yours?” Lois demands. “Don’t tell me Bruce didn’t get you one, after all the trouble _you_ ’d gone to.”

“Oh, he did.” Joker giggles, a low sound that’s just deep enough to sound ominous if not quite threatening. “But not for my finger. I’m wearing mine right now, actually. Wanna see?”

By the look on Lois’s face, her mind’s instantly gone where Clark’s has, too, and she already regrets asking. But it’s too late to object — Joker’s already unwinding the scarf from around his neck.

The scarf falls to the floor. To the palpable relief of everyone around, Joker doesn’t take anything else off. But the relief is short-lived, and all of a sudden the room is silent, all eyes glued to the sleek black collar around Joker’s neck.

Joker, obviously basking in the attention, turns slowly so everyone can admire it. Clark almost chokes when he realizes it’s got a little pendant with the bat-symbol on it clasped to the front — to say nothing about the metal handle at the back.

There’s absolutely no question what _that’s_ for.

“He made it by hand, too, just for me,” Joker boasts. “It’s got all sorts of little bat-gimmicks. And he’s the only one with the controller.”

Clark stares at the collar, morbid curiosity propelling him to x-ray it and see the truth behind Joker’s words for himself. As soon as he spots the circuitry that’s obviously meant to deliver electric shocks, he stops himself, blinks, and turns to stare at Bruce in turn.

And so, it seems, does everyone else in the room.

Bruce stands there for a moment, rigidly straight and dignified, chin tipped up, meeting their eyes with almost comical defiance despite the furious blush staining his cheeks, daring them to say something. 

Then, he shakes his head.

“I’ll have some of that wine,” he decides, and stalks over to the bar. 

And Joker laughs so hard he cries.

*** 

“That went pretty well, considering,” Lois says as she peeks out from the bathroom, toweling her hair. 

“Guess so.” Clark marks his spot in the latest _Star Wars_ tie-in novel with a cinema ticket stub, and puts the book down on the nightstand. “Definitely better than I expected.”

“I could tell.” Lois grins, perching down on the edge of the bed. “The talk with Bruce went okay?”

“Surprisingly so.” Clark returns her smile. “He did the prickly hedgehog thing first, of course.”

“Of course.”

“But I think I managed to reassure him we wouldn’t secretly plot to kill his boyfriend.”

“Now _that’s_ a job for Superman if I ever saw one.” Lois drops the towel on the floor and goes back to the bathroom to finish drying her hair with the dryer. She leaves the door open, and calls out, “It did help that they spent most of their time today chasing one another around the lodge. Didn’t leave much time for Joker to antagonize everyone too much.”

“That was smart of him,” Clark observes. “I think it was the best thing he could’ve done for Bruce in that moment. It relaxed Bruce so much, you could really tell the difference.”

“I thought so, too. Which is strange, but not all _that_ strange if you think about it.”

Clark hums his agreement, thinking back to Bruce’s flushed face and gleaming eyes. 

“I was actually surprised at how well Joker behaved,” Lois continues, “though I guess Hal and Ollie might disagree.”

“There’s always tomorrow.”

“Yes, I’m rather looking forward to that.”

Clark smiles, settling back on the pillows.

He supposes he is, too.

Just then, there’s a knock on the door, and Clark sits bolt upright. 

“It’s Bruce,” he tells Lois as he gets up. 

“Oooh.” Lois snickers. “Maybe he’s here to tell you not to eavesdrop on them in bed.”

Clark swallows as he opens the door, mostly because that’s his best guess, too.

And, as it turns out, they’re both right on the money.

“Here,” Bruce says as soon as he sees Clark in the doorway. 

He drops something. Clark catches it immediately, and examines the two tiny objects on his palm. 

His eyes widen. 

“Are these —”

“Earplugs,” Bruce says, curtly. “Made of lead.”

Clark stares at him. “Really?”

“You’ll thank me later,” Bruce tells him woodenly. He nods at Lois, who steps out of the bathroom with laughter already twinkling in her eyes. “Goodnight.”

He turns and leaves for his room upstairs without another word, and as soon as he’s gone, Lois lets the laughter out loud and free. 

“Joker did say they never got a proper honeymoon,” she says. “Think they’re gonna try and make up for it now?”

“I hope not, for all our sakes,” Clark says, staring at the earplugs. 

“Loosen up, Smallville.” Lois pokes him in the side. “You’re not usually as provincial as all that. Don’t tell me the thought of some bat-on-clown action makes you queasy.”

“It doesn’t,” Clark protests. 

_Mostly because I try not to think about it at all._

Lois gives him an amused look, finally slipping off her dressing gown and climbing into bed. 

“Can you hear them now?” she asks, far too eager for his liking. “What are they saying?”

_“Would it kill you not to antagonize everyone on the first day?”_

_“Aw, but Batsy, you were loving it. It got you all hot and bothered, I could tell. And those bozos could do with being taken down a peg or two.”_

_“Well.” A pause. “Maybe.”_

_“See? We came here to have fun. And Mr. Yellow Goatee had it coming for that facial hair alone.”_

_“I thought you liked facial hair.”_

_“Only when it’s on you, darling.”_

Clark’s face goes hot, and he turns to find Lois smirking at him far too smugly.

“Well?”

“Lois.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not curious as hell.”

And that’s the worst thing: Clark _is_ , just a little bit. Especially after that little interlude he caught. 

“You’re supposed to help me keep my worst impulses in check,” he complains, getting into bed on the other side. “Not encourage them.”

“Awww, but where’s the fun in that?” Lois’s grin is wicked. “Like you’ve never broken any rules in your life. Come on, Smallville. Live a little.”

“By spying on my best friend?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Lois says shrewdly.

“That’s different.”

“Won’t you at least tell me what you did hear?” 

“It was nothing,” Clark assures her. “Just a bit of banter, that’s all. Nothing… spicy. And I’d like to keep it that way, if that’s all the same to you.”

“Well, fine. Be the boy scout.” Lois huffs, falling down on the pillows. 

Clark chuckles. “Sorry, but I’m really not interested to hear what Bruce and Joker do in bed together.”

“I am,” Lois admits without a lick of shame. “That collar Bruce made for him? That’s some kinky stuff. I thought he was more repressed than a Puritan minister, but evidently not!”

“That was… surprising,” Clark admits. 

“Though maybe it shouldn’t be.” Lois’s tone is thoughtful now as she considers. “I mean… Bruce does love his leathers.”

“Kevlar.”

“Whatever. It looks fetishy, is what I’m saying. Now that I think about it.”

“Well, don’t,” Clark pleads. “I really don’t need those mental images in my head.”

“Puts Bruce in a whole new light, huh? I always knew there was some weird shit going down in Gotham. That just settles it.”

“You’re not going to investigate, are you?” Clark asks with a bite of dread.

Lois laughs, swatting him over the head. 

“I would if anyone believed me,” she says. “I can already see the headline: Going Batty for a Clown! Secrets from the Batcave. A Lois Lane expose.” 

“Snappy,” Clark judges, smiling. “But maybe a bit too long.” 

“It is, isn’t it.” Lois throws her arms around his neck, and pulls him in close. “Well. It’s a work in progress.”

Clark’s laughing when she kisses him, and he gives into it gladly, losing the noises from the bedrooms around them to the back of his mind. 

It’s only later, with Lois already asleep by his side and the steady heartbeats of the rest of the lodge’s occupants lulling him to rest, that he slips up enough in his control to catch the giggle from upstairs. 

And then the moan.

“Batsy,” Joker’s voice is saying, raw and breathless. “Come on, baby. I need you.”

“How much do you need me?” Bruce asks, his voice rougher than Clark’s ever heard it. “Show me.”

“I need —”

“Turn around.” Bruce’s voice is commanding now, firm and steady. “Keep your hands behind your back. Don’t move.”

“Batsy —”

“I said don’t move, Joker.” There’s a click, something metallic locking into place. “I’ve caught you now. Your plans are thwarted. There’s no use resisting.”

“Oooh, you finally gonna punish me, big boy?”

“Clearly you need a lesson. If Arkham isn’t helping, maybe this will.”

“ _Yes_ , yes baby, please, I’ve been so bad —”

Joker giggles again, and then there’s a grunt, and a moan, and the bed creaks, and —

Clark picks up the new plugs from his bedside table as quickly as he can — nearly crushing them in his haste — and jams them into his ears. 

The silence that envelops him instantly is so complete and _total_ , for the first time in his life, that it very nearly freaks him out enough that he pulls the plugs back out and takes his chances with blocking out the noises the way he usually does.

But he doesn’t trust his concentration skills enough now — not after _that_ — and the last thing he needs is more insight into what’s currently happening upstairs. What he’s already heard is enough to set his face on fire. Any more of that, and he won’t ever be able to look Bruce in the eye again.

So he keeps the plugs in, and tries his best not to panic at the complete lack of any noise whatsoever, not even Lois’s heartbeat so close.

Needless to say, he doesn’t sleep a wink that night.


End file.
